I had a house in Africa… Not “a farm at the foot of the Ngong hills”, as Karen Blixen, though I did go to the hills later. (“But that, Best Beloved” is another story.) It was a simple house by the West African sea. A concrete jetty pointing North. The sun rose every day to…
Notre-Dame in flames, by Thaïs. Paris, summer of ’21. City Hall launched a contest among children to paint what had happened to the cathedral. The winners were posted on the walls enclosing the reconstruction site. Notre-Dame, early sixties. Cars and buses would drive and park by the cathedral. I still remember as a child how…
Lion eyes. Always read the eye on the wall. “Murder on the dance floor.” The beetle’s eyes. Toxic eyes. (Michelada is beer with lemon juice) Zapatista eyes. Eyes of the “barberess”. The Prince’s eyes. (No idea, really. Making it up as I go) Bienvenida, welcome. Remember my eyes when all else is gone. “Soldier ask…
Equinoxio 